


Lunch in Berlin

by Silent_So_Long



Series: trope_bingo round four [4]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Boys Kissing, Community: trope_bingo, Kissing, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a lunch at Cafe Adler</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch in Berlin

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is set some time before 2008, as Cafe Adler, the setting for this fic, has now long since closed down (now replaced by Einstein Kaffee). Cafe Adler is situated right on the point where Checkpoint Charlie divided East from West Berlin and provided a good vantage point in which to view East Berlin. 
> 
> This fic also serves as a fill for my “mistletoe kiss” square on my trope_bingo card.

Paul trudged through the streets of Berlin, snow crunching beneath his booted feet as he walked; around him, more snow fell from the clouds above, sometimes caught in the bright, multi-coloured glow of myriad Christmas lights that were draped over available surface and shop window alike. Beside him, Richard walked in silence; the lack of conversation between them felt comfortable, yet every so often Paul could feel Richard’s gaze upon him all the same, stealing glances at opportune moments whenever Richard thought that Paul wasn’t looking. 

Sometimes, Paul purposefully caught the other man’s gaze and smiled at Richard’s suddenly embarrassed expression, as though the other man had done something to feel guilty about. Even though nothing was wrong, Paul thought that Richard’s embarrassed little gestures were cute all the same; he slyly reached out, and brushed his fingers across Richard’s gloved hand to test the waters. Richard didn’t pull away. Instead, Paul felt the other man’s fingers flex against his, to return the slight contact that Paul had initiated; Paul took that as an open invitation and slid his hand into Richard’s, glad when the other man’s hand curled easily around his own. 

They continued walking in silence, until they reached the Cafe Adler. The change from West Berlin to East Berlin was almost tangible, still hanging in the air even after so many years; the ghost of Checkpoint Charlie loomed over everything as though a reminder of all that had gone before. Paul shuddered despite himself and was about to step inside the restaurant, yet the tension in Richard’s hand held him back in the snowy street.

“Cigarette,” Richard explained, with a smile. 

Paul grunted in response; he should have known that the other man would need his nicotine fix before eating. He was glad that they had the time to indulge in Richard’s habit, before the restaurant closed for the afternoon. He stepped a little closer to the other man, when he realized that he was, in effect, blocking the restaurant’s doorway, and he’d received a rude comment from a harassed looking mother wheeling a child-laden push-chair. 

Richard rolled his eyes and made a rude gesture at the woman’s retreating back, when Paul sighed in frustration, sending clouds of breath-moisture to hang in the air about his head. Paul laughed at that, deep rumbles arcing between them to fill the air with sudden merriment.

“Some people, huh?” Richard asked,, as he propped one proprietary hand upon Paul’s hip.

Paul smiled at that contact and leant into it; Richard’s hand felt warm even through twin layers of glove-and-heavy jeans. They stood in silence again, watching people stream past, in their desperate bid to find last minute Christmas presents. Paul was glad that he already had bought Richard’s presents early; idly, he wondered what Richard had bought him in return. He knew there was little time left before he would find out; he knew, that, like always, Richard would not bother wrapping his gifts; instead, they would be given in the carrier bags they were originally bought in. Paul found that he didn’t mind the oversight; that Richard always bought him gifts without fail or prompting meant more to him than paper covered in fat men in red suits, bobbing robins or dancing snowmen that were more aimed at children than adults anyway. 

He hocked a few puffs of Richard’s cigarette, and smiled privately when Richard focused on his mouth, eyes watchful and needy when Paul dragged and inhaled. Paul wondered then if perhaps Richard was going to kiss him; he angled his body towards the other man’s, open, receptive, waiting, shoulder shoring up warmly against Richard’s own. Richard transferred his hand from Paul’s hip to the small of Paul’s back, soon describing small circles against the back of Paul’s heavy jacket, Still, Richard stared, tongue lapping out to lick at his lower lip a little nervously. Paul sighed, gave the cigarette back and waited, yet Richard dragged on the cigarette instead. Paul huffed and partially turned away, more amused than hurt by Richard’s lack of acting upon the promised kiss.

“What?” Richard asked, catching Paul’s huff with a grin.

“Nothing, Reesh,” Paul said, yet he couldn't stop his own grin from curling over his mouth all the same.

He couldn’t be angry with Richard, at least not for long; the intent to kiss was there, all the same, hanging between them like a heavy promise, something to be savoured and to be looked forward to when it finally arrived. Paul was used to this; Richard always kissed him at the very last moment, when it seemed that no kisses would come at all, each meeting of lips desperate and hungry and playful. Paul enjoyed those kisses more than ones freely given. It was as if Richard was storing them up, unleashing them on him by surprise and almost seemingly by accident; it made them more meaningful somehow, more intimate.

Paul leant in, rested his forehead against Richard’s shoulder momentarily; Richard laughed at that, and patted Paul’s butt playfully with one hand. 

“C’mon, Paulchen., let’s go inside, before we freeze,” he murmured, breath hot and tickling against Paul’s cheek. 

Paul shivered against him, more from Richard’s closeness than through the chill of the day. He turned, before he led Richard inside the Cafe, and was met with a wall of noise from the people inside; the warmth of the restaurant took the edge of the day away. Paul felt raw-boned, wind-whipped, snow-laden, soon thawed despite draping his coat on the back of his chair once he located the only empty table in the restaurant. Richard slid in beside him, one arm immediately propped against the back of Paul’s chair, tips of his now bare hands stroking against Paul’s upper arm. 

Paul felt sudden arousal rocket through him; he bowed his head in an attempt to hide it from those around him, glad for the cover of the table hiding the evidence of his excitement from all but Richard. Richard caught at Paul’s discomfort and laughed, before he nudged Paul’s shoulder playfully with his own.

“Later, Paulchen,” he said, a dark, needy promise held in his gaze when Paul looked up at him.

Paul nodded, too soon, too needy, yet the other man didn’t appear to mind; Richard smiled, with that same look of promise trapped in his gaze that was all for Paul. Paul wanted to kiss him again, to replace that small smile with his lips, to kiss a promise into Richard’s mouth and to claim him. Richard's fingertips danced across his cheek in a sudden caress, gone in but an instant yet felt all the same for moments afterward. 

“What are you having?” Richard asked.

“You later,” Paul said, immediately, mind still trapped by thoughts of bed and of bodies trapped beneath sheets, mouths locked, bodies joined in that most intimate of acts reserved only for them.

Richard’s laugh was sudden and loud, cutting through the myriad of conversations that surrounded them without disturbing a single one. Paul grinned back, eyes resting upon Richard’s mouth when the other man continued to grin at him. 

“That’s a given. but I mean food,” Richard said, as he dropped Paul a wink. 

“Hmm,” Paul agreed, before falling silent again as he perused the menu. 

They both decided to order a generous portion of apfelstrudel apiece; Paul had cream with his, whilst Richard plumped for a portion of ice cream. They both also had coffee, laced liberally with rum and cream. They didn't have long to wait before their orders arrived, heavily laden on white plates and sending heady aromas up into the warm air to join other, similar sweet smells. 

Paul closed his eyes in delight when the first sip of coffee slid down his throat, warming him on its way down. Richard was smiling at him when he opened his eyes once more, a certain fondness trapped behind the other man’s eyes; that fondness softened out his features a little and became trapped in his eyes. Paul smiled back at him, hands still wrapped around his coffee cup, inexplicably afraid that if he set it back upon its saucer, he would lose it; the magic would go and the moment would be lost. He took another sip, contentment flowing through him as easily as the coffee did; he felt his body relax beneath it all. 

Richard laughed quietly at that, fingers toying idly with the end of the scarf that Paul still had looped about his neck; Paul watched the movements of the other man’s fingers as they wove in and out of the woolen strands that fringed the edge of the scarf. The wool looked too bright, too red against the paleness of Richard’s skin, and Paul almost took the scarf away out of untold embarrassment, even though he knew it to be ridiculous. Instead, he watched, even as Richard glanced up and over their table. body stretching in a languid yawn, fingers now brushing against the wall. A sudden grin crept across Richard’s face, before he tapped the back of Paul’s hand with swiftly outstretched fingers, fingertips soft and gentle against his skin.

“Look what we have above our heads, Paulchen,” Richard said, voice low and quiet as though fearful of breaking a spell only he was privy to.

Paul glanced up, coffee cup still clutched resolutely between his fingers, and saw, suspended above their head upon a tinsel wrapped wire, a bunch of mistletoe, green and white and healthy looking, as though it had only just recently been plucked and hung there. He glanced back down at Richard, who was watching him intently, face puckered into a worried frown suddenly as though fearful of rejection, of being turned away when a kiss was so close and within easy reach.

Paul cleared his throat and finally set his coffee cup back into its saucer with a vague rattle. Although he was reluctant to part from the comfort of his coffee, he did not want to miss out on the opportunity of a kiss with his partner, inasmuch as Richard seemed also to want it now.

“Well, it seems as though we can’t let it go to waste,” Paul said, quietly, trying not to let his sudden eagerness show.

Richard still caught it anyway and a smile broke through the worry stamped across his face; Paul couldn’t help but smile back at him. He felt the first brush of Richard’s fingers against his cheek, transferred to the back of his neck after Richard raised his hand to touch him. He held his breath, as Richard leant in, gaze held firmly upon Paul’s mouth, before there was no more space left between them. Paul closed his eyes at the first warm brush of Richard’s mouth against his own, soft and pliable as ever. He pressed a little closer, wanted more of Richard, wanted more of the kiss, and he let slip a small moan of satisfaction which Richard soon swallowed and claimed all for himself; it was as it should be, Paul thought. That moan, like every other, was reserved for Richard only, so it was only right that he should claim it.

Richard deepened the kiss still further, tongue slipping easily past Paul’s lips when he opened up for him; Paul felt the familiar tickling stroke of it against his own and he responded lazily in kind. Richard was the first to break away, eyes blown wide, slightly out of breath and cheeks flushed with the force of his need. Paul dared to lean in, to steal one last kiss from Richard's willing mouth before he leant away, mollified for now into wanting something more once they returned to Paul’s apartment later that afternoon. Richard had the same thought seemingly, for his hand strayed up and down Paul’s thigh beneath the table, running closer and ever closer to Paul’s groin; Paul closed his eyes and almost choked on another sip of his coffee when he felt Richard’s fingers skating against his arousal, bearing down upon him with perfect pressure before easing teasingly away again, never to return. 

“That’s for later,” Richard promised, in a quiet aside to Paul. 

“Please,” was all Paul could think of to say, mind still too frazzled from the kiss that they’d shared and the outright teasing that had followed immediately after.

He felt faintly ridiculous for his utterance, yet Richard seemed not to mind it; instead, the other man looked pleased, touched, excited all at once. Paul gave him a smile over the edge of his coffee cup and felt almost like a school-boy again, stealing kisses on illicit dates with boyfriends in the past. Only this time, Richard was his, and Richard would stay, both permanently caught up in a relationship they mutually enjoyed and did not have to hide from anyone.

He didn’t say that he loved Richard, even though he wanted to right then, yet Richard seemed to know what he had in mind all the same, for he nodded, wisdom and a mirroring love in his eyes.

“I know, Paul,” Richard said, repeating his nod. “Me, too.” 

Paul smiled, before he took another sip of his coffee, and turned his attention to the apple strudel laying before him, warm and deliciously sweet, covered with a generous helping of cream. He waited for as long as he could, before he began to slowly consume his treat, savouring every bite, whilst beside him, Richard mirrored every movement, forks rising and falling and breaking into flaky pastry until every piece of their noonday snack was gone. 

Even though Paul was eager to return to their apartment, he did not rush Richard, too scared of seeming too eager, and therefore killing the magic of the moment; Richard seemed as unhurried as Paul, every movement languid and relaxed. Closing time drew near and both men had to finally unwind from their seats, as the cosy restaurant dispensed its patrons onto the street once more. 

It still was snowing outside, white flakes drifting lazily down from a forbidding sky to stick to the ground and join their fallen brethren in cold white drifts at the curb. Paul shivered his way through the streets, Richard a silent presence at his shoulder, large hand weighty upon his back. The apartment, once they arrived, was soon warmed by central heating ticking over, as winter layers were shed and abandoned, hands exploratory, mouths even more so, as Paul led Richard to the bedroom. 

The door closed behind them, sealing them in for a short moment of privacy, bodies soon lost beneath the sheets and each other, joined as matching moans of pleasure soon arced and tumbled from panting mouths; their love-making was slow yet meaningful for it, and when Paul came he felt like he was giving everything he had to Richard, and received it all back in return, as though they were the only ones left in the entirety of Berlin that mattered. To Paul, that was the truth, and when he looked at Richard once they lay spread and sated on sticky sheets, he knew, without doubt, that that truth was shared equally by Richard. 

In time, they slept, bodies curled about each other, the fires of satiated contentment running high in love-weary bodies; those fires would be stoked afresh later in the evening, when both men were awake, and refreshed once more.


End file.
